


Derailed

by sexuallydisoriented (Cheezalot)



Series: Compromising Positions [4]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-01
Updated: 2015-02-01
Packaged: 2018-03-10 01:04:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3270998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheezalot/pseuds/sexuallydisoriented
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Loosely based off “Imagine Reid’s expression when one of your family members falls prey to an unsub and he is the one to interview you.”</p>
    </blockquote>





	Derailed

**Author's Note:**

> Loosely based off “Imagine Reid’s expression when one of your family members falls prey to an unsub and he is the one to interview you.”

Something was wrong.

You knew it as soon as you got off the elevator that morning. Something was definitely wrong. Emily was intentionally non-engaging when you greeted her as you dropped your belongings off at your desk in the bullpen. Hotch was even more abrupt than usual when summoning everyone to the briefing room; he simply called out “5 minutes” as he moved from his office to the round table. Through the window, you could see him speaking with Garcia, leaning close so you couldn’t make out what they were saying. 

Despite the obvious disturbance in the family, you went about your business as normally as you could. Why bother getting worked up before you know what’s going on?

You followed Emily into the briefing and sat next to Garcia, who returned your smile of greeting with nowhere near her usual amount of pep. Even stranger was when Spencer came in with two cups of coffee in his hand, one of which he put in front of you. You took a whiff of it and, sure enough, it was exactly what you usually made for yourself. Confused, but a little flattered, you raised a questioning eyebrow at Spencer.

"You’ve only ever made yourself coffee one other way than this, so I assumed this is the way you like it."

He was right. One time last month you got the notion that it might be fun to switch up how you take your coffee, which turned out to be a terrible idea. The strange concoction you came up with tasted like bitter saltwater and you had a terrible headache for the rest of the day.

"Thanks, Spence," you said cautiously.

Before you could ask what the hell was going on, Hotch shut the door, looking even more dismal than usual. He shut the door and drew the blinds shut before taking the remote Garcia offered him and addressing everyone.

"Good morning. We’re going to Alabama today—Mobile’s police department has asked for our help with a case involving six women who were—"

Hotch cut himself off. You were the only one that seemed surprised. “Guys, what’s going on?”

Garcia pressed her lips together and spun her chair so she wasn’t facing you anymore. You knew that move. She did that when she didn’t want to show that she was crying.

Hotch addressed you, his voice soft. “Y/N, you should have received a phone call this morning.”

"I haven’t. My phone died when were in Illinois yesterday and I fell asleep before I could charge it." You were growing frustrated. "What’s going on?" You looked around the table for someone to give you some sign of what happened. They were all suddenly engrossed in the table or the case file. Spencer looked up briefly, but quickly looked away when he saw you looking at him. You didn’t miss it, though; he definitely was looking at you with pity.

"Cynthia Spasso is your cousin, correct?" Hotch asked.

"Yes, she is." Your stomach fell. "Was she one of the six?" you asked, astounded that your voice was so steady.

"Yes. I’m afraid she was. Mobile was supposed to call you early this morning and inform you, given your role with us.

You sat back in your chair, dumbstruck. “What?”

"I understand if you need to take some time off," he continued. "Obviously, you’re excused from this case, and if there’s anything you need from any of us, just say so."

You nodded, trying to register everything he’d just said but it hadn’t quite clicked yet. “Thank you, sir.” Your mind was racing. What happened to Cynthia, Why was she a target? You felt a strange urge to flip open your case folder and get to work, but your body was frozen.

Derek leaned across the table, his tone compassionate. “Y/N, you know we’re going to have to interview you as part of the investigation. You were, according to phone records, the last to speak with Cynthia before she was taken, and even if the two of you weren’t close we’ll still need to go over that call.”

You nodded numbly again. “Of course.” The last time you spoke to Cynthia was two weeks ago…meaning that she must have been taken then and disposed of recently if you were just getting the case now.

This was too much. You were closer with Cynthia than you were with your sisters, and you’d even lived with her in Mobile for over two years before you joined the FBI, and you just wake up one day and she’s gone?

_I should have called her last week. I meant to, and then we had a case run long and I just didn’t. I knew I should have._

"Um, excuse me, I’m, uh, going to, go." You fumbled your way out of your chair and made it to the kitchenette before you collapsed against the counter. You recoiled slightly when a pair of hands caught you by the waist, holding you up. Blindly, you turned into whoever the hands belonged to and buried your face in their chest. One hand ran through your hair comfortingly while the other wrapped securely around your middle.

Eventually, you pushed yourself back, looking up through watery eyes to see who you’d crumpled into.

"What do you need?" Spencer brushed runaway bits of hair away from your face. "What can I do?"

You stepped back and leaned against the counter, wiping your eyes. “I don’t know.” Your mind was still fuzzy. “Shouldn’t….shouldn’t I do something?”

"Not until you’re ready. You can take a day and I can talk to you tomorrow, if that’s what you need." He rubbed your upper arm comfortingly.

"Okay, um…" You buried your face in your hands while you thought. "Can, uh, can I go with you guys on the jet, and, um, you can interview me tomorrow, and then I’ll be in Mobile to do anything I need to do for her."

Spencer nodded. “Sounds good. We can do that. Do you have a bag packed?” He kept his voice soft.

"Yeah, it’s under my desk. Just, um, let me know when we leave and I’ll be there."

"I will. Right now, you sit here, have some coffee, and do what you need to do, okay? I’ll ask Garcia to come sit with you, if that’s alright."

You sat down slowly, starting to feel a little more human as everything began to sink in.

"Y/N?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. That’s fine."

He nodded, turning to go.

"Thanks, Spence."

"Of course," he said with a small smile. "Anything you need, Y/N, just let me know." He reached down to brush back some of your hair that had fallen into your face, and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead before heading back to the briefing room. Garcia bustled out of the room holding your abandoned coffee in one hand and her tablet in the other. She sat next to you and, thankfully, didn’t start talking. You needed silence at the moment, and it seemed she could sense that. The two of you sat in comfortable silence until JJ came by to let you know that the plane was leaving in 20 minutes and you should probably get going towards the airstrip. You made for your desk to collect your things, only to be intercepted by Spencer, who handed you your bag and your backpack. You walked to the plane with him, responding as needed whenever there was a break in his rambling. As the plane lifted off, you started to feel more responsive, although the team tended to leave you alone nonetheless. You tried to read the book in your backpack, but it was slow going. Eventually, you gave up and put it away, curling up in your seat. Spencer opened an arm to you wordlessly, and you accepted the invitation and turned to lay your head in his lap, slipping your hand into his as you closed your eyes.

If you listened hard enough, you could hear Penelope almost-silently cooing over the picture you made. 


End file.
